


The Colors Suite

by wimblydonner



Series: The Yuna Suites [2]
Category: Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wimblydonner/pseuds/wimblydonner
Summary: Long after peace has come to Besaid, Yuna continues to explore her relationships and her kinks.





	1. A Prism

Yuna had thought, once, there would come a time in her life when she had nothing left to do.

Her mind would lock on some goal she aspired to—first it was vanquishing Sin, then it was demolishing Vegnagun, then establishing Spira's new government—and assume that once that milestone had been reached, all would finally be well. The world would enter into a blissful eternal calm and she could retire to Besaid for her happy ending. 

The world, she has since learned, is never quite that calm. To be sure, Spira is a far kinder and better place than it used to be, freed from Sin and united under democratic leadership. But nothing is ever truly in stasis. Even now, businesess grow and then diminish, families come together or split apart, babies are born and elders pass away. 

And Yuna, who had thought there would be nothing left to learn or do, realizes there is no end to growth. Spira's golden age is not an end, just a start: a start to self-discovery, a start to new relationships with others, a start to (in her rare time off) adventures and explorations around the globe. 

If anything, their victories have given them the chance to turn inward, to truly explore themselves now that they are no longer threatened by death and destruction. A rainy day means a chance to sit indoors with a cup of tea and a travel guide, dreaming of lands beyond Spira's shores; a sunny day is a time to practice kicking Blitzballs or shooting targets, not out of necessity, but because learning a skill is intrinsically satisfying. Instead of rushing into marriage to have children before Sin kills them, people are feeling out their own selves, their own attractions, their own styles of love. 

And, for Yuna, that love takes many form. Yuna realized long ago that she was not a person whose affection would ever be channeled into one and only one true love. She cares deeply for many people—not because she planned it that way, not to make any kind of statement, but simply because she can't _not_ love, not when each of her guardians has their own significance in her life, their own talents and habits and preferences that she inevitably appreciates. Her heart could not belong to one person alone. 

And neither could her body. It's natural to Yuna that what she feels with her heart, she should feel with her hands and skin too, lest her relationships encompass only a fraction of the ways to relate each other. What she can't figure how to express in words, she can say with caressing hands, with firmly kissing lips, with her fingers on cocks or clits. Indeed, Yuna has come a long way since she was the shy, sheltered girl growing up on Besaid. Now she is unembarrassed about her body, emboldened to explore what new kinks or fantasies are lurking in her waiting for her to discover. 

She doesn't think of it as dividing her love but rather refracting it like a prism, the same white light turning up in one slightly different color or another depending on which facet is focused at any given time. And as the stars and planets above brought them into her life, now she endeavors to appreciate each color and shade of her relationships.


	2. Rose

The realities of life with Tidus on Besaid Island are more complicated than the fantasy. When she'd first met him, she'd be on a mission of global import, a forced march to Zanarkand that defined her entire life up to that point. A relationship and life outside her pilgrimage was impractical, unthinkable. Their relationship was more like a fairytale than a commitment. He was just a dream, literally and figuratively, a miraculous presence that swooped into her life and then swooped back out before she could catch him. There had been no calendars, no bills, no squabbles over the alarm clock, only _possibility_ —and possibilities could be as perfect as you could imagine them.

Now, her dream has come true. Tidus is alive and _real_ , there in her bedroom, surrounded by all the conflicting schedules and unsorted laundry of real life. He's now a fact rather than a possibility, and the rose-colored glasses have come off, to be replaced with the 20/20 spectacles of hindsight. 

Yuna, despite her many claims of retirement, can't resist the siren's call of adventure, nor the pleadings of the Spiran people. She's always traipsing off to explore a recently revealed ruin, shoot a new music videosphere, or mediate another negotiation with the Cactuar Nation. That doesn't always sit well with Tidus, who reminds her that he's a stranger to Spira. He's been brought back here because of Yuna; take that connection away, and he's stranded on Besaid with only his Blitzball team for company. "I'm not just some kind of sex toy, you know," he says, "You brought me to _your_ world; what happened to spending time together?" 

"I'm _trying_." She know it would be wrong to take him for granted, but she also can't be tied down. There are so many other people and places they need her; everyone wants a piece of the High Summoner, but she can only give them each so much of her time. It seems like her destiny to leave others unsatisfied and wanting more of her. But, she silently pleads with the universe, can't they take care of themselves? Can't Tidus find ways to fill the time when she's not there? 

Relationships, Yuna decides, might be even harder than dismantling Vegnagun. 

The first anniversary of his return approaches. Yuna has helped formed a new government in Spira, made her peace with the spirit of Yunalesca, and recovered many more lost spheres, but still she feels unrest. A year on from her happy ending, shouldn't life be better than this? It's not that things are _bad_ with Tidus, but neither are they the idyllic happy ending she had naïvely promised herself. 

Tidus claims to working on something spectacular for their anniversary, but he won't say what. She's hoping it's more than roses. She's never been so much for the traditional romance, and she needs more than tokens and formalities. She wants something about _them_ , something that reminds her of why she spent two years searching for traces of his existence. 

They leave at the crack of dawn on the morning of their anniversary. He's borrowed an Al Bhed machina boat, and they set sail to the west. The shores of Besaid, of all traces of civilization, vanish slowly behind them. They continue on through the open ocean for hours, towards no land that Yuna knows of. 

"The Fayth did me a big solid," Tidus says, around lunchtime, but explains no further. 

She suspects, but she does not speak. She doesn't want her expectations to contaminate whatever it is he has planned. 

Finally, in the late afternoon, the first sign of something other than endless blue waves rises on the horizon, an unintelligible speck in the distance. At least there's _something_ out there. Then the details come into view, the spires and highways of —as Yuna had come to suspect—Dream Zanarkand. _His_ Zanarkand. 

"Just for one day," he says. "But I always promised you I'd take you here." 

The city exists for at least this moment, dreamed back into existence by the Fayth—not unlike Tidus himself. 

He takes her on a tour of the city, leading her to all of the landmarks and hotspots he's talked about in his stories. It's all there: The Blitzball stadium where he used to be cheered by the thousands. The bars and clubs that never sleep where he would celebrate his victories, hopping and jamming into the early morning. The glittering malls full of gadgets and fashions far beyond anything conceived of in Spira. The highways lined with billboards advertising the Abes. 

After months in her world, it's finally her chance to experience the places and things that were most important to him. He shows her the streets where he learned to drive as a teenager and the high school where he'd cut his Blitzball teeth before he'd turned pro. They tour the neighborhood, and for once it's _him_ explaining to _her_ how things work around here. There's the aquarium he used to visit as a kid, and the movie theater where he went on his first date. (She knows she's not his first, and that's okay.) And hovers in Zanarkand, she learns, had wheels and were called "cars." By the end, she's done more than learn facts; she's heard a _story_ , a story of how Tidus came to be the person he is. 

The tour ends at his houseboat on the bay. It's sitting there inconspicuously, bobbing on the water like all of the other homes next to it. Yet Yuna can't help but feel some trepidation; like she's entering what is—to her—holy ground. This is where he began. After this, she will have seen all of his story. No mysteries will remain, and if she doesn't like what she sees, she can no longer hope that some yet-to-be-discovered insight will set their relationship right. 

He guides her gently inside, sits her down on the couch. He shows her the family pictures from better times, the embarrassing video spheres of his youth. Yet what she's most struck by is the fact that this was his _home_ , the place where ordinary days began and ended for him, only to have vanished forever. For the first time, she thinks she's begun to grasp what he's lost by being relocated to Spira. 

"Let's go outside," he said. "The sun's coming up." 

It's just like he described it to her in the pond in Macalania all those years ago. The city lights had steadily gone out of the course of the evening, leaving only the starlit night sky. Then, in turn, those stars too were drowned out by the rising sun. It crept up from the horizon, setting each band of the sky ablaze, until sea, sky, and city were bathed in a rose-colored glow. 

"I love it," she says breathlessly. 

And she thinks of all they have shared together—not just the plunge into the pond after Bevelle, but the battle with Yunalesca, the sunset over the Highroad, the joyful reunion on Besaid beach, the Blitzball games. The full weight of their shared memories crushes whatever meager problems stand before them. Their relationship is far too much to let go of. 

Tidus's arm finds her shoulder, and she instinctively snuggles up against him. "Thank you for taking me here," she says softly to him. "It's been wonderful." 

"You should thank the Fayth," he says cheekily. But he realizes a more serious comment is called for, and his hand tightens on her shoulder. "I always wished you could see it. Not just because I liked the city, but because it's ... where I came from. My world." 

Feeling more comfortable with him than she has in months, she turns and envelopes herself in his chest and arms. "I realize it's probably hard. Living in my world all the time." 

"Yeah," he admits. "I mean, all I really know of it is one whirlwind trip on your pilgrimage. But ..."—he nods to the bay surrounding them— "I know none of this is real. And you and Besaid are." 

When he put it that way, he sounded like a tragic hero. "Whatever you want, just ask for," she says. "I mean ... don't ever ask me to marry you, because you know I can never belong to only you. And I don't want to have children. But other than that ... I just want you to be happy." 

"I know," he says, "and I will." 

He kisses her there, standing by the rose-colored bay outside his houseboat, and Yuna swears she could taste the sunrise on his lips. Every sensation of his lips on hers is amplified a hundredfold by the sound of the lapping waves, the surreal colors in the sky, the feeling of triumph from finally coming to this impossible place. 

They quickly move to his bedroom inside, and she pulls him down on top of him in the bed. They're kissing again, more eagerly this time but still with great tenderness, as Yuna feels his hands begin to unwrap her from her top and bra. It feels like more than sex; it feels like having very essence opened up to him, and there's no one on Spira she would trust more with that. She reaches up to unbutton his shirt, wanting to touch his chest, to feel her hands on his skin, to know that after all they've been through he's here and he's _real_. 

His hands are stroking her hair, cupping her breasts, but at this point in the evening she's ready to move on to more. She pushes his hands down to the hem of her skirt. He obliges and with a yank downwards strips her of her remaining clothes, leaving her naked and uncovered and wanting him. 

She unbuttons his shorts and takes out his cock. He's hard—because of _her_ , she knows—and his cheeks flushed and breathing heavy, and there's no doubt of his feelings for her. She kisses him all over his face as he does the rest, stripping off his shorts and boxers completely and positioning himself over her to enter her. 

Sometimes sex is fun and playful, and sometimes sex is dirty and rough, but right now it's just _romantic_. Feeling him inside her is like the physical manifestation of their union; the ultimate removal of all barriers and separation between them. She hoists up her hips to draw him in deeper, wanting him— _all_ of him—inside her. 

As he moves in and out, as he kisses her, she feels their bodies putting their love story into motion. While he takes charge of their pleasure, she kisses his rosy cheeks, tussles his hair, does all the things that she's been neglecting to do to show her care for him. 

She presses her body against his and sighs deeply, moreso when he touches her clit. He kisses down her neck and she arches her back, bending into the sensation. Yes. Yes, this is what she wants. She wants Tidus, in every way possible, with no hard feelings or miscommunication between them, only two lovers united as one. He is _hers_ , and she wants nothing more than to be his. 

Her hand on her clit makes her climax, still thrusting in inside her, still with her hands tangled his hair. More than anything, it's the thought of perfect union that pushes her over the edge, feeling him _in_ her, knowing their bodies are moving in harmony. 

She whimpers a little and lays back, chest heaving, smiling dopily, knowing that at least everything is right between them. This rose has no thorns. 

But as Yuna's emotional needs are satisfied, the physical ones come bubbling to the surface. "Rail me," she soon growls in Tidus's ear. 

"Hmm?" 

She's not sure if he didn't catch it or if he's just teasing her, but her response is the same either way. Her hands scrabble down Tidus's bare back, pulling him in tight against her. "Fuck me harder than you've ever fucked me," she pleads again. "Drill me." 

Something flickers in his eyes, and she recognizes him changing from tender care to wild abandon. "Yeah? You that hungry for a fuck? You ready to rut yourself on my cock?" 

She loves dirty talk. " _Fuck_ yes," she says, half laughing with sheer exuberance. "My pussy needs you, babe; she's so hot and wet for you." 

He grabs her waist, hoists her off the bed, and before she knows it she's being put on her hands and knees--and, _fuck_ if being manhandled isn't exactly what she wants right now. "You wanted it, you get it," he pants. "I am going to pound your pretty little pussy like it's never been pounded." 

He fucks her doggystyle, and it's stopped being romantic and started being hot as hell. At first, it's all she can do to steady herself on all fours, but she's determined not to let him show her up, and pretty soon she's leaning back into each of his thrusts, rutting herself on his cock just like he'd promised. "Harder," she begs. "That's not hard enough. Savage me. Ream me." 

He grips her hips so hard his knuckles turn white and fucks her even harder. He thrusts in and out in a furious frenzy, no rhythm, no technique, just wild visceral need, until he hits his climax and his cock begins shooting his load in her. 

After he's emptied himself and his cock has softened, they collapse into a pile on his bed, laughing and flushed and sweaty and happy. His hands play in her hair. "I didn't get you off again," he says apologetically. 

That's the furthest thing from her mind. "Don't worry about it. It was wonderful; it was _perfect_. The whole day. I love you." 

The rose of her great romance blooms in her heart anew.


End file.
